Ghost By Jacqui
by anngraham
Summary: Even death can't separate Graham from his beloved Doctor. When a lab accident carries off a certain loyal lab assistant, things start to get spectral around Arcane Industries. Written by Jacqui. A wonderful writer and good friend who is sadly no longer around.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters are entirely fictional and do not belong to me, they are the property of the creators of 'Swamp Thing'. Sadly I am making no money out of this.

Ghosts

Part 1

by Jacqui

Graham looked round the lab and what he saw gave him very little comfort. The three lowly technicians were pressed up against the wall, pretending that cowering was part of their job description. He couldn't find it in him to blame them; he wanted to do some cowering of his own. It was all very well the Doctor saying that this experiment was perfectly safe but he wasn't sticking around to test that out was he? Graham finished the complex job of linking together the fresh brains that had been delivered to the complex earlier in the day. *Brains,* he shuddered, no good had ever come of messing with brains, the Doctor's idea was brilliant of course but it was typically unpredictable in its outcomes. Harness the electrical energy of the human brain and create the first truly organic computer, maybe, but releasing the psychic energy of five brains sounded pretty dangerous to Graham. Taking a cautious step back he switched on the slight electrical current that started the process, then he just had to observe.

At first all seemed to be going well, the misty presence of [almost] living thought curled round the hardware to which the electrical current led it and the transfer of energy seemed to be controlled. Graham began to relax, allowing himself to study the readings with a little more curiosity, and missed the first, slight change in colour of the psychic field. By the time he looked up it was glowing a pure, vivid blue. He didn't know what it meant but he knew he didn't like it. Graham lunged for the cable, trying to break the circuit, when he was frozen in place. He felt pierced in a thousand places by the coldest of tendrils and his mouth fell open in a silent scream. The world around him stood still while Graham fell through an aching vacuum of pain.

When he regained consciousness he was completely alone, slumped in the corner of the lab. None of those three idiot hirelings even had the wits to come and help him, they were just huddled round over by the equipment gazing down at *something* on the floor. He tried to croak out a cry for help but couldn't make a sound; all he could do was watch. The arrival of Dr Arcane was an enormous relief, the Doctor would probably bawl him out with every kind of insult but at least he'd get things moving. When Arcane walked straight past him without even looking Graham crumpled, *Sir*, he tried to get out, *Sir* but he was still silent. Despairing he found that he could drag himself up, in fact he was so light headed that he actually felt he was floating.

He floated over to the little crowd, now spread apart to give Arcane room to kneel by the *something* on the floor.

"Didn't anyone try CPR?" Arcane snapped, "you imbeciles!" Graham floated up close to his employer and gazed down.

*Its ME,* he screamed wordlessly, "ME, Graham, ME. I'm on the floor, I'm, I'm DEAD.* He tried to grasp Arcane's shoulder, *Sir, I'm not dead, NO!* For a moment Arcane looked round and seemed puzzled, then he just shook himself and stood up.

"He's dead."

*NNNNOOOOOO.*

Dr Arcane's face tightened into a hard mask that was the denial of all expression. He looked down at the corpse and then some fleeting touch of emotion crossed his features. "Take him," he hesitated, "take this ...to a cryo-pod. Freeze it immediately." He looked round at the underlings, "Waste nothing, want for nothing," he said with a strained attempt at cheerfulness. Arcane turned away, speaking so quietly that only the invisible presence beside him could hear, "I can put this right, the bio-restorative formula, I'm so close."

Desperate to make the Doctor know that he was still around Graham concentrated hard on the hand and arm that seemed solid enough to him and felt a slight tingling there. Tentatively he reached out and touched Arcane, for a matter of seconds his fingers found a real purchase on the silk of his shirt and Graham knew, by the slight tremor that went through his employer that some contact had been made.

For the next two days Graham followed close by Arcane, trying every attempt to get his attention. He had tried to make himself known to other people around the complex but hadn't had even the slight signs of awareness that he'd seen in the Doctor, he was also doubtful that anyone would dare approach their employer with ghost stories or get a receptive hearing. At intervals Graham exerted all his spectral strength to force some solidity into his hands and he did occasionally manage to provoke a shiver, but not enough to make Arcane curious. On the evening of the second day Graham hovered in Dr Arcane's bedroom, watching him sort through a heap of clothes and preen himself in front of the mirror. He resolutely turned away while the Doctor dressed; refusing to acknowledge to himself that he was strongly tempted to take what advantage he could of his invisible form and just take a little look. He was well aware why Arcane was going to so much trouble. A woman.

Graham couldn't help being hurt, he hadn't really expected a period of mourning but it still made his ectoplasm shiver to see the Doctor creeping all over some big-bosomed, squeaky voiced airhead when his devoted assistant and truest friend was only just cold in his cryo-tube. Arcane ate with the woman alone in his private dining room and despite his wounded feelings Graham couldn't help staying around. He winced at the same old awful lines Arcane was using to seduce the woman, as if she needed any seducing, and he felt real pain as the Doctor began to fondle the woman, hands roaming over her surgically assisted curves.

Graham did want to leave, really, but he felt almost magnetically attracted to the couple as they moved on into the bedroom. *I do NOT want to see this,* he told himself, firmly. But he still drifted in through the bedroom wall. He watched, bitterly, as the greatest scientist of his generation demeaned himself, giggling like an imbecile with some clothes horse who had the intelligence of a water snail. Graham still couldn't turn away, his eyes were locked on Arcane as his employer stripped off and that slender, elegant body was revealed. His ghostly hands twitched to touch the expanse of silky, hairless skin and he felt a great sickening wave of rage as he watched the Doctor run his hands over a pair of silicon breasts. The anger filled him, he felt his insubstantial body grow colder and colour and form begin to develop. He was floating up against the wall behind Arcane's bed, looking down on the Doctor and overlooking the unwanted presence of the woman. He could sense, in some way, that he was becoming visible and he managed to let out a faintly audible 'whoosh' of air. The slight noise made Arcane look up.

"Aaaagh." Not the most articulate comment that great genius had ever made, but then he was in shock. Arcane leapt back, almost falling off the bed. "Graham," he yelped. The woman sat up, blessedly covering herself with a sheet. She looked round, and looked right through Graham. "Well, can't you see him, woman?" Arcane snapped.

"See who?" She clutched the sheet around her and slithered off the bed. "Look, I said no weird stuff, and no drugs. Whatever you're into I just don't want it."

Arcane had stopped listening to her, his eyes fixed on the glowing apparition over his bed. The woman saw that she had lost his interest.

"Well, I'd better go then, OK?" Silence was the only response and she grabbed, bad tempered, at her pile of clothes.

Arcane didn't even look at her as she left, he gazed in fascination at Graham's ghostly form.

"Well, Old chap, this really is remarkable - now just you stay there while I go get the necessary equipment to check you out thoroughly. But the glowing form was already fading, it had started to dim when the interloping female prepared herself to leave, and now that she was safely out of Arcane's way Graham lost his visible form completely.

Over the next few days Arcane was quite cheerfully absorbed in his research into the spectral visit. He did find the attitude of the lab technicians he'd drafted in to assist him to be annoying, they hardly seemed overawed by the potential of this discovery and there was even a faint air of downright skepticism. It made the Doctor aware that, for all his limitations, Graham did at least know how to appreciate genius. He was even rather discomforted to find that he missed that supportive presence at his side. Still at least he could get Graham back in supernatural form, if only he could re-establish contact. Unfortunately that was proving to be difficult, however much he tried to entice Graham's shade to show itself he remained stubbornly invisible.

At one stage Arcane even called the deeply disgruntled underwear model who had been present at the manifestation, only to receive some very inventive abuse and a flat denial that she had seen anything - except *a weirded out limey talking to the wall!*

Arcane had to admit to himself that her denial, coupled with the barely concealed doubts of his staff did give him just the slightest pause. Surely this couldn't have been some strange delusion brought on by, of all things, emotional stress? He gave that idea very little consideration, especially when he overheard a couple of guards apparently discussing him - speculating that he was unhinged by grief. He even felt that he heard a suggestion of pity in their tones. Pity! Arcane had once allowed grief into his life, grief so intense it had almost killed him, that would never happen again. And even to suggest that he might grieve for Graham, how absurd. Two guards quickly found themselves on permanent night duty, patrolling the acid pit. He simply had no time for doubts about his own sanity, Anton Arcane did not hallucinate, thus the manifestation of Graham's ghost was a fact. It was just a fact that was proving devilishly hard to verify.

Lack of progress did, however, rather lessen Arcane's enthusiasm for long hours in the lab and he began to feel a certain familiar restlessness. Intriguing though Graham's reappearance in his life had been it had also interrupted his last period of recreation before it had reached the usual, and much anticipated climax (to coin an entirely appropriate phrase). Arcane did need female companionship, and he needed it frequently, it was time to take an evening off.

A much indebted senator with links to the entertainment industry had recently given him the 'phone number of a struggling young actress who was prepared to be grateful for the attentions of wealthy men and he had no problem securing a visit to her at short notice. Their meeting went well, anxious for a change of scenery Arcane took her to dinner in Houma's finest [and only] restaurant, and found his new acquaintance to be charming as well as lovely. For her part the actress was pleased and relieved to actually be enjoying the company of a man who was considerably younger and far more attractive than the usual run of contacts she made through the senator. It was a pleasant evening all round, and Arcane was torn between a desire to linger over this pleasant period of anticipation and the need to satisfy the more basic urges that this delightful feminine presence had aroused. He was quite unaware that the ghost of his late assistant was hovering imperceptibly at his shoulder, as he had been through all those long periods in the lab. The frustration of being unable to get back in touch with the Doctor had been a strain on Graham but it had turned inwards, to self-pity. Now, however, it was building to a rare fury. Another woman, another little trollop crawling all over the Doctor, taking advantage of him. Graham accompanied them back to the complex, seething impotently at his voyeur's role but, again, unable to break away.

Dragged unwillingly behind Arcane, Graham found himself back in that familiar bedroom, shuddering with horror as that shameless female played her role, toying with the Doctor, slowly undressing him. Graham shivered with rage. He grew cold, his body stiffened into a solid, corporeal presence and he began to glow with a shimmering range of colours.

Dr. Arcane saw the emergent form of his assistant behind his companion and, this time, was able to control his reaction. Keeping his eyes on Graham he cast around desperately for some excuse that would allow him to get rid of the charming actress quickly, without so offending her that he might cut off future access to her charms. He could hardly claim a sudden wilting of his desire, given that even the rather disconcerting arrival of a spectator had no such effect. Indeed so persistent was his response to the warm, female body pressed up against him that he was almost tempted to carry on... but in front of Graham? That was going too far even for him. Arcane took a deep breath and began the sort of evasive speech that he had seldom had need of before. The "respect you too much, spoil the start of something good, get to know each other better speech." It was delivered rather abruptly, and it hardly fitted the situation but it was one of those lies women find hard to argue with. Perplexed, the girl tidied herself and took up Arcane's offer of a limousine ride home

Fretting, impatient to get to his research the Doctor could barely wait for the girl to enter the elevator before he seized on Graham. "Not the best of timing, Old Chap, but at least you..." The glowing colours that outlined Graham's form started to fade and his shape become less distinct. "NO," Arcane cried, lunging at the ghostly form as it disappeared. Angered beyond all endurance, he beat his fists against the headboard of his bed until he ran out of breath. Disconsolate, panting heavily, he slumped down heavily on the silk draped bed. No sex, again, and still no ghost. How much frustration was he supposed to take? "Dead or not, Graham, you'll pay for this."

Arcane allowed himself a brief period to dwell on his anger, and to acknowledge the gnawing discomfort of needs unmet. However he had always put work first and this was work of such potential importance. His mind began to clear and he was able to put his intelligence to work on this new piece of evidence, two manifestations, in such similar circumstances was not a coincidence and that gave him the beginning of a theory. Still finding himself distracted the Doctor went through to his bathroom and set his shower to its lowest temperature, an old remedy but still effective.

The powerful, icy, jets of water invigorated him and blasted away the last of his distraction. Now he could concentrate. It was reasonable to hypothesise that Graham wanted to make contact, and had probably been trying consistently since his 'demise' and yet had only manage to manifest on these two occasions. Too little to work on for a truly scientific speculation, but Arcane did have an advantage in that he knew the spectre in question very well. Just assume that to become visible, even to just one observer, required a great burst of psychic energy - perhaps in the form of strong emotion? Arcane grinned, poor Graham had never been skilled at hiding anything from his employer and his emotions were usually so repressed, damped down into his habitual submissiveness except for certain circumstances that now took on major significance. Arcane had never even pretended to believe that Graham's hostility, even anger, towards certain female visitors was solely concerned with matters of security. Indeed he had rather enjoyed keeping Graham around, letting him help with preparations for the inevitable seduction, making him all too well aware of the pleasures that awaited any attractive woman fortunate enough to encounter Anton Arcane. Yes, the only strong emotion that ever surfaced in Graham was jealousy, that heady mixture of unattainable desire for someone he, quite reasonably, adored and hatred for the women who had the access he was denied. Excellent, now he knew where to go with this, now he could say *first catch your ghost!*

Arcane spent most of the night working up his plans - first scribbling on odd bits of paper and then developing the finer points on his computer. Unfortunately what he required demanded some precision microelectronics and the specialist team he called into work at 6am the next morning claimed it would take them several days - an answer that displeased him, he was eager for progress [and, though loathe to admit it, for a resumption to his usual out of hours activities without Graham's interruptions.] However the electrical engineers could be 'rewarded' for their tardiness once the work was complete. For now the Doctor had no choice but to wait. He tried to return to any of the projects that had been on hold since Graham's unfortunate accident but he somehow couldn't concentrate, he was just too ...restless.

Arcane decided that it was time his more complacent employees got a shake up; he would tour the complex checking on those areas of lesser interest that he had formerly left to Graham's oversight. His progress through each department left no one in danger of complacency, he snapped, snarled, quibbled, criticised, threw each project team into a state of quivering indecision. Before he was two hours into his tour Arcane industries was virtually at a stand still. The Doctor himself, however, had forgotten all of his threats and rebukes almost as soon as he made them. He had become, rather, preoccupied with the uniform worn by all but the most senior staff. It was time it was redesigned, why ever had he thought such a tight fitting jump-suit appropriate? Everywhere he went his eyes were drawn to the bodies of his staff, too obviously displayed by their uniforms. The women, their breasts outlined so clearly straining against the fabric, those long zip fasteners just begging to be undone, to reveal the soft curvaceous bodies crammed inside those constricting outfits...

Arcane swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and wiped a fine layer of perspiration off his forehead. It was quite unacceptable, this was a place of work, a man couldn't apply himself to his labours if he was constantly distracted. Why, if that man *really* lost concentration this constant bombardment of the sense could become confusing. Displays of overly prominent bosoms were bad enough but there was too much bending, crouching, squatting down going on. Everywhere you looked were fine, taut, buttocks thrust in your face, demanding to be admired, crying out for some attention. And the worst of it was that it wasn't just the firm swell of female bottoms that was having that effect. The Doctor clutched tightly at the clip board he was carrying, somewhat awkwardly, in front of him and his knuckles whitened with strain. *Overalls* he thought, * loose, baggy, concealing overalls in some dark colour, get all the staff more decently dressed as soon as possible, that way no one would be tormented by...* He shook himself, both literally and figuratively, no more dwelling on that line of thought. He had to find something to think about that was so irretrievably dull it offered no stimulation whatsoever.

The dullest, and most pointless project that Arcane could think of visiting was that on energy conservation which Graham had talked him into. Too close to Alec Holland's mossy heart for the Doctor's tastes and just the sort of thing he saw as frittering away time and intellect. It was not the destiny of the human race to surrender to the petty limitations of nature, conserve and coddle it. Rather human ingenuity should be bent towards transcending such limits - not conserving energy but finding new ways to release it. However Graham had produced convincing evidence that Dr Ingersohn's work would pay its own way just in cost savings on heating the complex, and there was always a use for these time wasting 'energy saving' ideas as a sop to the environmentalists. He remembered Ingersohn as a stubby, ill favoured woman well above the age to attract his interest, as if he could ever find interesting someone who was still working with technology as primitive as the internal combustion engine, and he felt confident that not even the regulation jump-suit could transform her into an object of desire. The woman's enthusiasm for her work, and excitement at his sudden interest did lead to a relaxing, soporific lecture on the virtues of steam power and Arcane began to relax. By concentrating on her less than attractive face he was able to force down the recognition that her body was actually in good shape, at least in its clothed form and to blot out at least some of the gnawing physical discomfort that had been plaguing him. At least until she insisted on showing him her work. Ingersohn had surprisingly elegant, well kept hands and favoured a vivid red polish on the nails. As those hands caressed a large, metal piston and began to explain the basic operations he found his focus drawn to her stroking movements up and down the metallic shaft, he gulped slightly and tried to concentrate on what she was saying, suddenly aware that there was something oddly seductive about her Swedish accent

"And so the piston thrusts into these cylinders, "She explained,

"umm" he replied, weakly.

"Of course, as you can see they are very tight and can get extremely hot, so it is a precision movement thrusting in and out, in and out." She ran both hands up and down the piston, fingers sliding over the smooth surface as she spoke.

Arcane's throat was dry and his voice unusually weak, "hot, tight, " he echoed faintly, "thrusting in and out, umm, thrusting in and out, of a hot, tight..." His voice trailed off and a dreamy expression came over his face. He grasped his clip board so hard he seemed close to breaking it.

Dr. Ingersohn had lost all interest in her audience, aware only that she had someone to explain her precious life's work to. She got even closer to the piston, both hands wrapped around it and her breasts pressed against its tapering tip. "Unfortunately," she said, "the input of steam is hard to regulate."

Arcane tried to tear his gaze away the way she was standing, *science,* he thought, *cold rational mathematics, that's right, just concentrate on that.*

"There can be an enormous build up of pressure, " she said, "I've tried a system of release valves but its finding a flexible material to take the strain." She paused, sighing, "without becoming hard and swollen under the pressure. I really need some form of release."

Arcane closed his eyes, losing his battle against his own imagination. "The pressure is enormous, " he groaned," everything so hard," He looked back to the Swedish scientist still pressed up against smooth metal surface. "yes," he agreed, feverishly, "and swollen, hard and swollen with the pressure. It *has* to have release" he echoed, with rather more intensity than a discussion on recycling energy seemed to require.

"Well, unless it can be channelled so this can thrust in and ..."

"YES, I know," He yelled, "the thrusting, I know already," Arcane bent double as if stricken by a sudden stomach cramp. He knew that just one more word would be too much, and he fled.

Dr Ingersohn looked on in puzzlement as Arcane made his rapid but awkward exit. *How odd,* She thought, *Had he been taken ill? Still,* she concluded more brightly, * He was taking a great interest, and seemed to understand my problem so well - I think I can look forward to an increase in funding.*

Graham hovered around and in front of Dr Arcane trying desperately to make himself visible. He had rather enjoyed their tour of the complex, it was good to hear other people get their share of the Doctor's vitriolic abuse and he was pleased that some of the projects he set up were being noticed at last. Now, however, he was worried. Dr Arcane seemed ill, pale and sweating and slightly bent over as if in pain. Graham fluttered in Arcane's wake as they rushed to the elevator that went up to the Doctor's private quarters and found himself spectrally mingling with the molecules of the lift wall as he struggled to try to make himself solid. He badly wanted some physical form so that he could help the Doctor but *still* he couldn't manifest. Once inside his bedroom Arcane began to strip off, rapidly and without his usual tidiness or regard for his clothes. Graham took it as a sign that his mentor was out of sorts that he threw an expensive designer shirt to the floor and trampled over it, apparently unaware. Clumsily tearing at the button and the zipper of his loose fitting trousers, Arcane seemed in a frantic hurry to undress. He managed to kick off his shoes while simultaneously struggling out of his trousers and underwear and stood naked, breathing heavily. Graham tried to turn away, it seemed that he was always being thrust into the role of Peeping Tom, but he felt compelled to look. He didn't understand it, but the more it seemed he was violating the Doctor's privacy the harder he found it to resist.

Graham took a quick look, then another, he just couldn't keep his incorporeal eyes off Arcane. He was seeing more than he'd ever seen before, despite the fairly close contact he had had with his employer in his living form. Graham gaped, he would have blushed...if he'd had skin, or blood vessels.

*Oh,* he thought,

*Oh, So that's why he seems so uncomfortable.*

A whole set of realisations hit Graham, Including *I am going to get the blame for this.* He didn't intend to interrupt the Doctor's dates - no one would be happier than Graham if he could time his manifestations more conveniently. It wasn't fair. And he felt rather disappointed in the Doctor. He knew that some men were subject to cravings so strong that they had to be satisfied at all cost but he hated to believe such a weakness of Dr Arcane. After all if he, Graham, could manage a celibate lifestyle then surely someone as brilliant as the Doctor could abstain for a few weeks. He *was* disappointed. He was also fascinated.

Graham followed the naked form of his employer into the bathroom and waited while he turned the shower taps on full, the shower was set to its lowest temperature as it had been for weeks and icy water soon jetted out. Graham expected Arcane to step into the shower and, while he didn't *want* to look there was something about the prospect of seeing that sleek body bombarded with a powerful spray of cold water, especially those parts where it was most needed that..., well there was a certain tingling in parts of Graham that didn't even exist.

However, the Doctor wasn't even thinking about the shower, he leant heavily against the cool, tiled surround and let out a faint moan. Dammit, he'd been taking cold showers for weeks and their only benefit was a numbing effect that was rapidly wearing off. He couldn't take any more. If he was to be forced back into that agonising adolescent turmoil of arousal and disappointment then he could at least have recourse to an adolescent remedy.

Graham was puzzled when Arcane came returned to the bedroom, leaving the shower running, disregarded. He watched Arcane lie back on his bed, wriggling slightly against the smooth, silky surface of his bedspread and heard a little sigh of anticipation.

*Oh no,* Graham thought, *no I can't watch this. It's worse than seeing him with a woman.* He tried to close his eyes, but lack of a physical form made that difficult, and he had no way of shutting out the sounds. So he watched, and writhed with embarrassment, and he felt something begin to stir and solidify within him.

Arcane lay with his eyes shut, letting his imagination conjure up soft female hands stroking his overheated skin. It felt so good, he gave a little groan of pleasure as he got into the rhythm of the moment.

Then he became aware of *something*. He didn't want to open his eyes, he certainly didn't want to stop what he was doing. But there was definitely *something* hovering close above him. His eyes snapped open. He was gazing up into Graham's face, a face that was rapidly acquiring a fairly solid body.

"Graham," he yelled, indeed it was a scream of outrage. "You have to make your presence felt *now* you couldn't even give me a few moments to..." Remembering how exposed he was Arcane shifted his hands to cover himself, knowing that it was ridiculous - clearly he had nothing that he could keep private from Graham. Despite his anger and frustration scientific curiosity was, as ever, Arcane's prime motivation and now he had a ghostly manifestation in front of him he had to study it. This was, he realised, different to the other times Graham had materialised. Then his *body* had been far removed from human, a swirl of luminous colour around the edges and a cold, gaseous feel. This was a much more solidly physical form, close to the look of living flesh. Indeed as Graham materialised it was clear, as it hadn't been before, that there was no spectral clothing accompanying him into the after life. This body was very naked and...

*Ah, Graham,* Arcane grinned to himself as full materialisation showed just *how* physical this form was. *Excellent.* So now he knew that it wasn't just jealousy that made Graham show himself. Indeed 'showing himself' was entirely appropriate given Graham's rather excited condition.

This was a much more convenient way to lead Graham into the electronic 'cage' he had designed for him. It was also rather intriguing, perhaps even timely. He could make some interesting use of his assistant's newly reconstituted form, and all in the name of science. Ah, how he loved research! Time for an experiment.

Spreading his arms wide he exposed himself again, this time deliberately. He softened his voice to a seductive purr and smiled up at his erstwhile assistant.

"Graham, come here," he reached out his hands welcomingly, "I need you."


	2. Chapter 2

When first light dawned Graham, returned to his intangible and invisible state, was hovering over Dr Arcane's bed gazing down at the peacefully sleeping form. He tried to reach out, to bring some solidity to just a hand or a few fingers. He longed to be able to touch the Doctor, even to just brush a stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead, and being unable to do so was almost painful. Graham had never thought that he was capable of the passions that seemed to motivate other men; in his youth he had at least tried to imitate desire and lust to avoid being labelled as strange but he had never understood what he was supposed to feel. He had been curious, of course, and had been drawn to know what did happen between men and women. Or men and men, if he let himself think about it. He had just not been able to find any desire strong enough to overcome his vague queasiness and sense of disgust at such physical acts.

Until he came to work with Dr Arcane he had believed he was just cold inside, incapable of feeling anything. It had taken him a while to realise that he had found the true centre of his life. He had known immediately how remarkable The Doctor was, and how compelling, but had only recognised gradually that here was a source of such passion and intensity that if he could just stay close enough it would heat him through. In the presence of Arcane Graham could feel alive, and even his physical death hadn't changed that. But last night, feeling and acknowledging a desire that wracked his borrowed flesh, had shaken everything he had ever understood about himself.

He had found such an urgency in that it swept away all the repression he had built up, the feel of skin on skin, the pressure of aroused bodies pressing against each other, the explosive release of desire had all been such a revelation. He only regretted that it had been over so quickly, a frantic expression of need that had literally blown his newly created flesh apart. Now he just longed to be able to reach out to The Doctor, to touch or at least speak to him.

It was unusually late in the morning when Arcane first stirred. Feeling relaxed and rested for the first time in weeks he snuggled back down, no need to get up yet, the equipment he needed for his experiments wouldn't be ready for hours. What a timely intervention from Graham last night. He smiled smugly to himself. He had had sex with a ghost, perhaps the only man alive who had, or at least who would be able to prove it. It had been surprisingly good and he stretched languidly, enjoying the release from tension and taking some pleasure in remembering. Good old Graham!

He dwelt happily on the research paper he would write, minute and particular detail for the learned academies was exactly what they deserved. Most of the pygmy-brained 'scholars' were so elderly and closed minded that they would take a shock that would likely kill them. He also needed a version for public consumption; he would be giving the illiterate masses what they most desired - proof positive of life after death. Let those fossilised academics try to deny him any of the great prizes once he was borne aloft on a wave of public adulation. Still, there would have to be a rewrite for the common herd, they didn't need scientific accuracy but they did need a simple story to embrace. Arcane was thoughtful, he gave a little grimace of distaste. No, Graham would hardly do. He wouldn't change the basic facts, that a deceased lab assistant's desire for him was so great that it transcended death. Once he became a familiar figure on the international stage everyone would understand how *that* could happen. But Graham was just not suitable, his public would expect a ghost that was more, well, attractive. And when the film of his life was made he simply could not be seen in the ghostly embrace of a balding and, frankly, rather ordinary underling. No, there would be some serious rewriting to be done.

These pleasant reflections on the glories to come brought The Doctor fully awake, he was going to enjoy today and was suddenly eager to get on. He sprang out of bed enthusiastically and stood for a moment, yawning and stretching. He ignored the robe hanging conveniently near and moved around his bedroom naked.

*Are you there, Graham?* He thought, *Well of course you are, where else would you be?* Arcane surveyed himself in the full length mirror. Perfect. No wonder he was literally enough to wake the dead. He tossed back his mane of hair, which had become a trifle disordered during the night and admired the effect. *Mmmm, enjoying the view are you Graham? And who could blame you?*

Arcane took a shower, enjoying the return to hot water, and wished that he had some way of knowing where Graham was. How close was his ghostly presence, right under the water with him? He couldn't help being just slightly aroused by the thought of being watched and he made sure that Graham had plenty to look at as he soaped himself and played the water over his body. Taking pleasure in the sensual feelings this produced he did begin to hope that his assistant might be provoked into making an appearance. Last night had been...interesting ...and he would like the opportunity to explore the experience a little more before he had to get back to the serious scientific study of the phenomenon.

Arcane luxuriated in the shower, throwing his head back to wash his face in the soft warm water. He became oddly aware of ...something...a slight sensation of a touch at his throat. Blinking the water out of his eyes he squinted round but saw nothing. Was it imagination? But then he felt more, a brief, tantalising sensation across his chest, lightly brushing his nipples.

*Of course,* he thought, *Graham.*

"Graham?" He asked out loud.

There was no sound, but the delicate touch continued becoming more identifiable as the light pressure of fingers. Arcane reduced the shower to a spray and peered around him. Still no visible manifestation. Not that that made the experience any less enjoyable - indeed it was even more intriguing. Invisible hands explored his wet skin, skimming lightly across his stomach, tracing the line of his backbone and Arcane stood still, taking in the pleasure of being touched. Then he felt a soft pressure on his mouth, gentle at first but enough for him to recognise the feel of lips, tongue, a mouth softly pressing against his. As he responded to the kiss it became more forceful, intense, leaving him breathless.

*Graham,* he thought, *You do surprise me.*

When the lips left his he was surprised again as they began to trace a path down his body. Gentle kisses fluttered at his throat, followed the line of his shoulders and covered his chest. Slightly harder contact was made with his nipples, a grazing sensation as teeth scraped across their sensitive surface. The Doctor sighed, what an unexpected pleasure there was in this silent, invisible worship of his body. He felt the hands move lower, and became more aroused as sensual stimulation became a little more...direct. When the increasingly demanding mouth also swooped lower, joining the hands, he did exclaim out loud,

"Graham!"

Everything stopped, all those delightful sensations. "No," He cried out, "I didn't mean...," Arcane grinned, "you carry on old chap - you're, er, doing a good job"

As the exploration recommenced he grasped at the shower surround for support, *Well, hidden depths, who would have imagined it? You are a quick learner Graham,* he thought.

When Arcane finally managed to leave his quarters he had several new concerns to mull over. The first he disposed of quite easily, yes he had been rather ...affected ... by certain experiences with his almost ex-assistant but that was easily explained. The excitement of taking a ghostly encounter further than any man had gone before, combined with breaking a long period of abstinence, was bound to lead to rather a heightened emotional state. He had enjoyed it, as he enjoyed many things. Nothing more. Less easily dealt with was the realisation that Graham could 'materialise' at a level that appeared to present no tangible form. Dammit, why couldn't the man be more co-operative. He had to know that Arcane was working to stabilise his ectoplasm - given that he was always around he could hardly have missed that. How did he expect Arcane's plan to work if he wouldn't materialise properly!

When he reached his lab the team of electrical engineers were waiting anxiously. He examined their work rather distractedly, yes it was adequate, it would do the job so long as the circumstances were right. Well, it was up to him to make sure they were, he brightened suddenly and even favoured the team leader with a smile so friendly that it brought on a desire to check his life insurance - quickly.

He was now impatient to get on so he hustled three of the engineers up to his quarters and stood over them while they installed a network of units which created a web of electrical impulses combined with light and sound emissions lying at the ends of the spectra beyond human senses. Despite the understandable nervousness which slowed down the process of the underlings this was still a quick job and Arcane was soon able to throw them out. He lay back on his bed, considering his next move.

It was crucial to push Graham into a full materialisation, anything less might be ineffective. It was time for The Doctor to revisit his past, back to his days at medical school. He had had particular reasons to attract the favours of an older man, wealthy, powerful and jaded in his appetites. He had learnt then how to seduce even the most resistant man and though he had not used many of those skills since he still knew what to do. He doubted that Graham would be as hard a target as a certain British politician had been, all those years ago.

Carefully setting the blinds to block out all daylight he went round the room lighting the flickering electric candles. He glanced at himself in the mirror, appreciating the way he looked in the softer light. He disarranged his hair slightly and smiled around, assuming that he would be catching Graham's eye somewhere. He found something suitable to put on the CD, unobtrusive but faintly seductive and then went to a seldom used drawer in his closet. He took out a tissue wrapped bundle, fortunate really that he'd kept this all these years and transported it across continents. Carefully he unwrapped a small, but rather unusual selection of leather...er...garments. He laid these out on the bed, sure that Graham would be getting a good look, and began to undress. He took his time, letting the music give a certain rhythm to his movements as he unbuttoned his shirt and slithered out of its silky material. Carefully, with a tantalising slowness he took off the rest of his clothes, making sure to stretch and bend - showing off his slender body to best advantage. He finally bent over the bed and picked up a certain well preserved piece of leather, as he caressed the hide and held it up against him he was not surprised to hear an audible gasp, or to see a rapidly solidifying form appear.

"Ah, *there* you are Graham!"

He studied Graham closely, this was a solid materialisation, colour nearly that of living flesh. The perfect state to preserve in his brilliantly conceived 'ghost trap'. Arcane raised an eyebrow at the emerging form and smiled as Graham reached out to touch the leather. He pressed a little closer, letting the leather rub against his naked body. It felt good, he had forgotten how much pleasure there was to be had in this particular...game. He was so tempted to play a little. However Graham was hard to predict, take things too far and he could lose his physical form before Arcane could capture it and a little self indulgence was not worth the disruption to his plans.

The Doctor pulled Graham close to him, feeling his employee's pleasure at the contact and then, grasping him tightly, quickly manoeuvred him into the specially prepared corner of the room. He threw Graham down and stood back, panting, smugly triumphant. He began to speak, "Now, Old Chap, let's have some of those secrets of the after life, eh," when he was interrupted by a terrible wail. Graham lay curled up in the corner, his face contorted in a mask of pain and his colouring shading to a sickly greyish hue, giving out a terrible, inhuman scream.

Only a faint hum made the equipment obvious to any living observer, to Graham it was a cage of fire. He cringed into the corner, hurting, pain biting deep into his imprisoned form. Grinning wildly, unable to contain his excitement, Dr Arcane crouched in front of him, scraping globs of ectoplasm into test tubes. Graham groaned as the spatula touched him and struggled to try to speak. Arcane heard his cries and, for a few seconds looked concerned, "Chin up old chap," he urged, "you're serving the interests of science here!" He finished filling a final tube and stood up, "Just got to run a few tests," he said, "won't be long."

Just as he reached the door Graham managed to croak, "It hurts."

Arcane turned back to him, and there was just a fleeting look of anguish on his face. He bit his lip and turned away, "I won't be long," he repeated faintly, and left.

That he was away longer than he had expected was due, surely, to the disappointing results of the tests. It could not be because he couldn't bring himself to face Graham, could it?

In his invisible cell Graham curled up against the wall and sobbed, dry heaving sobs because he had no tears to cry. The Doctor had left him alone here so long, it was almost worse than the pain. His entire being longed to go to Arcane, living or dead he only existed to be by his side. When the familiar swish of the elevator finally broke the silence Graham looked up hopefully, and met serious grey eyes that gazed at him mournfully. Realising that he was giving too much away Arcane frowned, "Sorry about the delay, can't get the help these days," he tried to joke. It fell terribly flat.

Graham's voice was weak and strained, he held out one hand to Arcane. "Please don't leave me again, please."

Arcane tried to pat the trembling shoulder but was repulsed by the slimy texture *I can't do it, * he thought, *can't stay here and watch him decay.* He looked down at Graham and made contact with the imploring gaze of those sad, blue eyes. *He wouldn't leave me,* Arcane realised, *whatever the circumstances.*

"Its all right Graham, I'm not going anywhere," he promised.

The Doctor had a succession of minions bring equipment to his quarters, and kept several more on standby to carry samples back and forth to the main lab. It was, he managed to convince himself, more sensible to stay close to the source. It was not a matter of sentiment. Nor was it a matter of guilt. He would not even entertain such an idea, Anton Arcane made rational decisions and did what was necessary in a given circumstance, that did not allow room for guilt.

*So why can't I even look at him?* asked some cowed section of his mind that might once have been a conscience.

He tried to blot out the faint cries of pain that came from the corner of the room. Tried not to sneak the occasional glance that told him Graham's 'body' was decaying rapidly. He studied the unstable matter by all the sophisticated means available to him and still could only get the same answer.

*I'm killing him.*

*Nonsense, pull yourself together Doctor. He's already dead, been dead for weeks.*

Somehow it didn't feel that way. Graham's undead form seemed every bit as real as the pre-dead version. He had stayed by his employer, as loyal and familiar as ever, and had been much the same annoying, cumbersome but oddly comforting presence. Arcane didn't allow himself to dwell on how much closer they had been, on the way the ghostly form had...touched him. That, he tried to believe had just been a necessary tactic to get Graham to materialise. It was nothing more. It meant nothing. He had to believe that.

Arcane checked his data over again, hoping that he might have made a mistake. But of course he hadn't, he knew that was impossible. None of his attempts to stabilise the spectral energy were working. Another day, maybe a few hours longer and all that was left of Graham would be gone. He had just that brief time to find a way to preserve a sample, the only evidence that his jealous rivals couldn't discredit. If he worked furiously he might still just save his Noble Prize, his international celebrity. And Graham would be gone, really gone, forever. Not even a silent wraith to hang around invisibly. *I'll miss him,* The Doctor thought.

"Damn you Graham!" He screamed, hurling a test tube at the wall above Graham's head and causing the poor pain wracked creature to whimper with fear. Frowning angrily at his ghostly captive Arcane reached for the 'phone and dialled the number for the cryo -storage unit. "I want Mr. Graham's body defrosted to maintenance levels and brought to my quarters" he snapped, "yes, do it now, if that wouldn't be *too* much of an inconvenience - YOU MORON!"

He put down the 'phone and took a deep breath. Calmed he walked over to Graham and crouched down next to him. "Dammit, I don't know why I should even consider wasting my precious time trying to bring *you* back to life. If the rest of the staff here weren't even more incompetent than you..." His voice trailed off as Graham prodded at him with a weak, trembling hand. Arcane took the foul, decaying thing in both his hands and forced himself to hold it while the sickly ghost focused bleary eyes on him and manage to force out, in a barely audible whisper. "Thank you Sir."

The two lowly minions who brought Graham's body up to Arcane's quarters couldn't quite resist the folly of showing curiosity. Arcane regarded them with indifference but he knew their names and made a half hearted mental note to deal with them some time. *The gossip in the staff canteen will be interesting today,* he thought, and normally he would have acted immediately to quash any wild rumours. Well, actually he would have sent Graham to do it. He felt a sudden wave of...what..? Sadness? And glanced over at the spectral form that was now silent, barely conscious. "It will be all right, old chap, I'm dealing with it. And I am THE Anton Arcane, am I not?"

His voice tailed off and he didn't manage quite the note of confidence he was aiming at. The silence was unnerving, he found himself listening for Graham's stammering, foolish comments. "See here Graham, I've got a corpse, *your* corpse, on *my* bed. When this is over I'll have to burn a fortune in imported silk." He managed a weak grin. "The cost is coming out of your salary. I promise you."

*Whistling in the dark?* He thought, *Dammit no, I will bring you back. I promise you that.*

The problem was that he didn't know how, given more time of course he'd reach a solution but he didn't have time. He couldn't follow the well tried paths of scientific investigation, methodical and systematic. Today he needed some of those short cuts that his genius occasionally supplied, those brilliant insights that could take him to the heart of a dilemma. How to release the energy that made up Graham's essence from the ectoplasm and transfer it intact to his original body. He lined up all the results of his tests on the ectoplasm and tried to find a point of focus, to make a pattern out of them. The one thing he kept coming back to was that it was his oh-so-brilliant system for capturing the ghost that had disrupted its basic structure and started the process of decay. In doing so it had also locked the life energy into the rotting 'flesh'. As Arcane had intended the physical form could no longer dematerialise - he had simply not intended the consequences. He needed a way to 'pick' that lock, while simultaneously channelling the energy back into its original body. And he needed to do it before the last of the spirit body decayed.

Arcane wondered what would happen if he failed. The Graham he knew would be gone, he would no longer have access to a physical form, but what would happen to his spirit then. Arcane couldn't even guess, all he knew was that he would never see him again — and that was simply unacceptable.

The Doctor worked tirelessly, struggling against the pressure of the ticking clock. Anxiety made him clumsy, careless even and every time he reached for a test tube he realised how much he missed Graham's obedient presence by his side, smoothing out the progress of his work. There was no one else he could bear to bring in to assist him and his eyes keep being drawn to the rotting, barely recognisable creature penned in the corner of the room. *My responsibility, * he thought, *My job to save him by any means, however distasteful.*

Arcane damned the rapid passing of time. He could no longer afford the luxury of playing about with chemicals hoping to stumble on a solution. He went over to Graham and swallowed down his disgust enough to place a hand on what was left of the ghostly shoulder. It turned dry and brittle under his touch, threatening to crumble right away. Graham turned to him, eyes luminous, huge, in his decaying face. Those eyes were full of suffering, imploring Arcane to end his pain.

"Graham," The Doctor said, softly, "I'm sorry, but I have to leave," The ravaged features contorted in distress. "I'll be back just as quickly as I can. I have to get you help, from the only, er, person who can help you."

Arcane got up and pulled on his jacket. "Do you want anyone else to stay with you?" He asked, a trifle awkwardly.

Breathing heavily, his form contorted with effort, Graham wheezed out just a few words. "Only...ever...want...you."

Dr Arcane made his way through the complex, barely resisting the desire to run. He picked up a jeep from the car park and set off for the swamp at a reckless rate.

He drove as far as he could up onto the swamp without risking being stranded there.

He got out of the vehicle and peered around him in the darkness. "Holland," he shouted, "Holland I know you're there. I need to speak to you."

He waited, listening out for some response, but the swamp was silent. Moving further into the swamp he continued to call out, till his throat began to hurt and his voice, quietening almost to a speaking tone, took on a slightly whining note of desperation.

"Alec, I know you take pleasure in tormenting me," He cried, "but this is important, please."

Almost as if he had been waiting for the magic word Alec Holland stepped out in front of him, moving silently for such an impressive bulk.

"What are you doing here, Arcane?"

"Alec, at last, thank God!" The Doctor held up a hand to the swamp mutant, "I need your help, and we don't have much time."

"What have you done now?" Holland asked, severe as ever.

"I haven't done anything!" Arcane's voice rose in pitch, indignant. Then he remembered the urgency of his mission. He dripped a little treacle into his tone. "I'm asking for your help for my assistant, Graham."

"Yes? I know Graham."

"He had an accident, he's dead." Arcane looked up at Holland, a flicker of something close to anguish crossing his face."

"And what do you want from me?"

The Doctor couldn't quite control an impatient "Humph". Trying to stay calm, he said, "I know you can bring him back."

Alec Holland stood, pondering, well aware of Arcane's restless fidgeting. "Hmm," the Mutant said, "I felt *something* that reminded me of death, but that was some time ago, several weeks. And since then, odd occurrences, too little to disturb the balance of nature but still..."

He fixed a stern gaze on Arcane. "What are you keeping from me?"

The Doctor squirmed, "Well perhaps it is a *little* more complicated, Alec, but no great problems for your remarkable talents. I *know* you can still bring him back."

Arcane turned away, aware of the passage of time. "We have to hurry," he said, trying to urge Holland on.

"Wait" Alec Holland intoned, grasping Arcane firmly by the collar. "Whatever you've been doing you can't expect me to involve myself. I have no intention of walking into a trap."

Frustrated and afraid Arcane nearly broke. Holland peered closely at him, detecting real anguish. "Please Alec, please. There isn't much time, he'll be gone for good soon. I give you my word that there is no trap, and I will tell you everything, but we have to go. Now."

Holland nodded slowly, somewhat reluctantly. "Very well," he agreed, "but I warn you Arcane, I will have the truth from you."

The journey back to the complex was brief, but uncomfortable for Holland at least. He wasn't built for this mode of travel and Arcane's reckless driving nearly had him thrown out of the jeep on several occasions. He had no desire to cause a crash by pressing The Doctor for more details while he was driving but he was, grudgingly, informed that Graham had spent the last few weeks in haunting the complex. Holland harrumphed quietly, ghostly activity was apt to disrupt the natural energies of the swamp *and* he wasn't entirely convinced that Arcane was yet being truthful with him. As they drew up outside the main building Holland began to sense the faintest emanations of ...what?...pain, fear? Too weak to really identify.

The feelings became a little stronger as Arcane hurried him up to the living quarters. Clearly someone was suffering, and their life energy was very weak. Despite this Alec Holland couldn't resist a curious glance around the luxurious apartments. *Must be Arcane's rooms,* he thought, *I doubt the unfortunate Graham merits this kind of accommodation.*.

Impatiently, The Doctor urged him on into the bedroom. Holland saw Graham's corpse on the bed but could barely spare it a glance. He was drawn immediately to a foul smelling little heap in the corner. The poor creature lifted its head and fixed him with luminous blue eyes, enormous in the decaying face.

Holland knelt next to Graham, taking in all the information his enhanced senses could gather. He placed a mossy hand on the dying creature, gently, trying to reassure him. He paused a moment and then turned on Arcane. "What have you done?"

The Doctor withered under Holland's stare. He looked embarrassed, ashamed even.

"I thought I could stabilise the ectoplasm, give him a permanent physical form."

"You thought!" Holland intoned, "your arrogance Arcane, your belief that you can play God. When will you learn?"

"All right, Holland, all right. Just please can't the lectures wait?"

Holland looked again at Graham. "It may not be that easy," he growled, reflectively. "Whatever you did has bound his spirit to the ectoplasm, I will have to detach it and return him to his body before that monstrosity you created collapses and takes him with it."

Arcane didn't want to ask the question but..."can you do it?" He said, voice just a little shaky with anxiety.

Holland shook his head slowly. "Possibly, I will try but I cannot promise anything." He paused, "I can only work with the powers of nature Arcane, I cannot always achieve what I might want. You know that this doesn't always work."

"Yes, I know that." He became very still, quiet. "You failed, and Tatania died. It mustn't happen again."

Holland was stung by the injustice. He was roused to give Arcane a few uncomfortable truths about his wife's death but when he faced the other man he saw that Arcane's eyes had clouded over and Holland found that he couldn't quite bear to look. He had found this man's grief over his wife's death more moving than was comfortable. A certain measure of sympathy, of fellow feeling even, had crept into his previously resolute hatred of the scientist. And he too didn't want it to happen again. He was well aware of how much Graham meant to his employer. Indeed he thought he was probably more aware than Arcane himself. He was sure that if he had had to face Tatania's death alone he would have spiralled down into such a terrible madness that the whole world would have suffered for it. In his quiet, much abused, way Graham brought stability into Arcane's life.

Alec Holland forced himself to shrug off memories. He had to concentrate all his energies in the present. "Is his body ready?" He asked The Doctor.

Silent, unwilling to look at Holland, Arcane busied himself with the freshly defrosted corpse.

"Ready." He echoed.

The swamp mutant crouched next to the disintegrating heap that housed Graham's spirit. He concentrated hard and emitted a green glow from his hands that engulfed the ghostly form.

*Nothing.* Graham's spirit was stuck fast. Holland breathed hard, he reached out with his mind to the swamp, asking for her support. He set forth another wave of energy, stronger, a more vibrant green. He felt something, a slight shifting, but couldn't quite get a focus. "Nearly," he said out loud.

"Holland?" Arcane was at his side, tense and watchful.

Alec waved him away, he was tired, drained by the effort and had no energy for discussion.

He crouched down and whispered intently to Graham. "I know you're exhausted but you have to help me. You do want this, don't you?"

*Want this?* In his haze of near extinction Graham knew only one thing, that he wanted to return to Dr Arcane's side. Nothing else mattered. Of course he wanted this.

Holland summoned up his strength, he knew that he had only one more attempt left in him. This had to work. He flooded the ectoplasm with the energy of the swamp, reaching out with his mind as if reaching out his hand to a drowning man. Just as he thought he would have to surrender a lost cause he felt *something* catch at the edges of his mind. He gave a great mental heave and felt Graham's living spirit break free.

Holland stood up, staggering slightly with the effort and swung blindly around the room, trying to orientate the newly freed spirit energy to its original body. As he blundered around Arcane gazed at him, amazed. "What are you doing? What's happening?" He demanded.

Concentrating on sending Graham off in the right direction, Holland ignored Arcane. He staggered wearily over to the bed. He felt a sudden lightness as the ghost spirit left him but he couldn't be quite sure if it had made it back into the waiting body.

Despite Arcane's close attention to Holland's efforts he was still distracted by the final collapse of the little heap of rotting matter in the corner of the room. "Alec," he cried, alarm bringing a shrill note to his voice.

Holland grunted, "I think...think I got him."

As he spoke the body on the bed stirred slightly, just enough for Arcane to see it. Roughly he elbowed Holland out of the way, taking the mutant by surprise so that even his advantage in size and weight didn't stop him giving ground. Leaning over the pale form of his assistant The Doctor spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"Graham, are you there? Can you hear me?"

With a struggle Graham opened his eyes, wincing as the early morning light blinded him for a moment. Speaking hoarsely, his throat dry and painful, he managed to utter one word, "Sir?"

"I'm right here Graham, it's all right, I'm here."

Graham was finally able to focus and he looked up into anxious grey eyes. "Sir," he repeated, happily and managed a faint little smile.

While his patient drifted in and out of consciousness Arcane made some rudimentary medical checks. As far as he could tell Graham was whole and fully functional - just very weak and exhausted. Relieved, Arcane was beginning to recover a little of his usual buoyancy. For the first time since Graham's return from the dead he noticed Holland's presence in the room.

"You still here, old bean?"

"Yes, Arcane," Holland answered, wearily, "I just brought your assistant back to life, if you remember."

The Doctor took his attention away from Graham, reluctantly, and turned to Holland. He patted the green, mossy chest appreciatively. "Indeed you did, and a jolly fine job you made of it too." He glanced back at the sick man lying on the bed,

"Now why don't you just go and get Graham a nice drink of water, oh, and while you're about it you can get an extra blanket, try that chest of drawers over there."

Taken aback somewhat Holland stumbled off obediently, muttering to himself. He looked down at his unwieldy mossy paws, *and how am I supposed to manage this, use my teeth? So its fetch this Alec, carry that Alec, raise the dead Alec and never a word of thanks,* he grumbled.

When he returned, a half full glass clasped between his hands, Arcane was sitting on the bed, with one arm around Graham helping him to sit up. He took the glass and supported Graham while he gulped at the water. "Not too fast old chap, or you won't keep it down. I'm not having you being sick on *my* bed."

Seeing them together Alec Holland managed as much of a smile as he features would allow. *Ah well,* he thought, *too much to expect gratitude from Arcane, but then some things *are* worth doing for their own sake.* He harrumphed meaningfully, attracting Arcane's attention. "We have matters to discuss." He said, somberly.

"Do we?" Arcane queried, lightly. "Well, I'm sure we'll get plenty of chance to chat later. As you can see I've got my assistant to look after right now." He favoured Holland with a bright smile and added, "Now I'm sure you can see yourself out, old chap, you have been in and out often enough! Bye bye."

The Doctor turned back to his patient while Holland gazed at him, silent with astonishment. Finally he shrugged, sighed and turned to go. There would be another day.

Graham was allowed a brief period of recovery, his body had been kept in good condition but the trauma to his mind had been hard to overcome. He knew that his period of recuperation was over when he woke up in his own bed, unsure as to how he'd got there but not surprised to find a brusque list of instructions by his bed in his employer's precise handwriting. He was still tired, and a little confused, but he was strong enough to get up and dress. Graham struggled into his lab coat and took the elevator down to the main lab, hoping to see his employer. He was disappointed that Arcane wasn't there but he worked through the list as quickly as he could, on alert all the time for his return.

The Doctor's timing was good, he arrived just as his assistant had finished tidying the much neglected lab. Graham turned to greet him with a beaming smile, one of his rare demonstrations of genuine happiness. He failed to notice that Arcane's expression was a picture of studied unconcern and turned to him with excitement, "'Sir, I..."

Arcane cut him off, "All finished here? Jolly good. The work has been piling up while you have been ... Indisposed."

*Indisposed?* Graham though, *Is that all it was, and all I mean to him?*

Graham didn't know what to say, he gazed beseechingly at his employer and reached out a hand to touch his arm - as much contact as he dare make without permission.

Arcane shrugged slightly, just enough to dislodge Graham's hand. He gave his assistant a quizzical look and Graham cringed, wounded by the cool indifference of his gaze.

"Just pop up to my quarters, Old Chap, and lay out my blue silk suit would you. Oh and a selection of shirts, something suitable for this rather pleasant evening."

"You're going out tonight, Sir?"

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "I have a much delayed appointment with a certain young lady, Graham. A very lovely and talented actress."

Graham's face crumpled, he gave Arcane a look so sad it was almost tearful. His employer snapped at him, irritated,

"Bloody Hell, Graham, its been damnably long time since I've had any female company, whatever did you expect?"

He frowned at his assistant's expression, "and," he continued, "having gone to an extraordinary effort to bring you back from the dead I fully expect to enjoy my evening with *no* interruptions. Do I make myself clear?"

Graham nodded, numbly, and trudged off in the direction of the elevator.

Back in Arcane's quarters Graham sat down on his employer's bed. He felt suddenly tired, his limbs heavy. He stroked the cool silk bedspread and remembered the first two days of his return to his own body. It had been a time of pain, he had found it hard to fit back into his skin and to recover from his experiences. However it had also been the time, in all his years at the complex, when he had felt closest to The Doctor. Arcane had stayed by his side, sitting up on the bed for most of that time and watching over him. Graham remembered what it had meant to him to have his employer soothing his fever with a cooling touch, bathing him and helping him eat and, most of all, holding his hand through those long periods when he couldn't sleep.

To Graham this had been the greatest intimacy he had known with his adored employer, there was a warmth in that simple contact that somehow meant even more than even the moments of passion he had experienced as a ghost. Important though those encounters were to him he had, even then, not known whether Arcane had seen more in it than pleasure, or even just novelty. In the period of his recovery he had come close to believing that The Doctor *could* care for him to some extent.

Graham sighed and shook his head, nothing seemed to have changed, perhaps he was just indulging in wishful thinking. He forced himself to get up and went about his tasks. He stroked the fine fabrics of his employer's expensive clothes and sighed a little at the waste - such beauty being squandered on some one night stand, and such a remarkable man going unappreciated by a brainless female when he could be...Graham forced himself not to dwell on that. The Doctor had access to all those women again, why *would* he want anything else?

When Arcane arrived in his quarters Graham was busying himself tidying the vanity unit, and making a point of not looking round when the lift doors opened. The Doctor smiled to himself and met silence with silence, having a sulking Graham around the place really was a return to normality. Arcane chose a shirt from the selection laid out, and stripped off the one he was wearing. He padded over to the vanity and reached over Graham to pick up a brooch, not quite brushing his naked torso along his assistant's arm. To his surprise the other man moved sharply away, rapid movement that brought on a spell of dizziness. Graham grabbed at the furniture to stop himself falling.

Concerned, Arcane reached out a hand to steady him but found that Graham backed away, refusing the contact. His assistant was pale and his eyes a little unfocussed but his expression was resolute and angry. Arcane felt a little contrite, perhaps it was somewhat cruel to torment Graham just yet, tempting though he made it.

"You're still looking a trifle peaky. Go back to bed," He ordered, "I'll drive myself tonight"

Graham straightened up, "Thank you Sir," he said, with great formality. "Are you sure that there is nothing else you want me to do? I suppose you need to conserve your strength..." He couldn't quite keep a note of bitterness out of his voice, "for catching up with all your female acquaintances." Despite his best efforts there was a touch of bitterness in those words and his lower lip began to tremble.

Arcane took in the sad look on Graham's crumpled face. *Oh dear,* he sighed. *Better take pity on the little sod.*

"Not necessarily," he said, enigmatically. Arcane raised an elegant eyebrow and favoured his assistant with a smile. "I *can* appreciate variety Old Chap, who knows what might happen tomorrow?"

Graham gazed at him, "Sir?" He stood by, hopeful that his employer would say more - but nothing was ever that easy with Dr Arcane and Graham was used to being fed on crumbs.

"Now off you go to bed." Arcane stood, sternly, waiting for his assistant to leave. However as soon as Graham did turn away The Doctor spoke again, "Oh, and sweet dreams." His assistant turned back momentarily and managed a faint, tremulous smile.

Arcane waited until the lift door closed, and he was sure Graham was out of earshot. "Good to have you back, my friend." He said, quietly.

The End


End file.
